


Until We Fall

by 221castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent John Winchester, Castiel Has Mental Health Issues (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Daddy Issues, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homophobic John Winchester, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221castiel/pseuds/221castiel
Summary: Dean Winchester is what many would consider a hopeless cause.With sticky fingers, a below c average and a mouthy attitude, even Dean cant see his life changing around. Not that he cares, considering his only plan in life is to make sure his twelve year old brother is okay.Of course that is until one to many slip ups with the cops and he's sent to a boys home in Hurleyville, New York; where he meets Castiel Novak.Rich, slightly stuck up, and with every aspect of his life planned out, Castiel might as well be night to Dean's day. Of course there's more then meets the eye, and maybe him and Cas have more in common then Dean would ever guess, starting with their music taste.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	1. Prologue

"Walk slow through the fire, like, who gon' try us? Feeling the world go against us, so we put the world on our shoulders." -Suicide Squad, Sucker For Pain

-

"Where's the kids dad?" 

"We called him," the officer paused for a moment, voice seeming to weigh down in the silent room, echoing against the walls. "And he told us to leave him in the cell."

Dean didn't look up as the officer and the other man, Sonny, talked, his eyes staying on the handcuffs that keep his wrists together. His usual pale skin was now scattered with red and purple bruises, any skin not bruised instead stained with blood. He could still feel the pain in his right temple and along his right cheek from where he'd been punched, though it was nothing compared to the weight that settled in his stomach.

A feeling he couldn't quite describe, possibly dread, anxiety, Dean wasn't sure.

"So he got in a fight?"

"After shoplifting. We found a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter in his jacket."

"What was the fight about?"

Neither man spoke, for a moment, and then another, the living room they sat in sitting in eerie silence, until Dean finally looked up. His gaze first met the offices, then Sonny's, both men looking at him waiting for an answer, an answer Dean couldn't care enough to give.

Instead he looked around the small living room he sat in, everything seeming to have come from the nineties if not later, with old wallpaper, and chipping wood. The walls themselves covered in photos and awards.

"Boy-"

"Don't fuckin' call me that," Dean snapped, his gaze quickly going back to Sonny in a harsh glare.

A visible sigh left the man though he stayed calm, much to Dean's annoyance. "Dean," Sonny began, slowly, speaking in a tone that reminded Dean of the way you'd talk to an injured animal. "What was the fight about?"

"Nothin'."

"If it was nothin' you wouldn't be sitting here."

"The kid called me a faggot, okay?" Dean replied through grit teeth, his glare not faltering. "And I'm not a fag."

"So you punched the kid."

"Oh he did a lot more then punch." Dean continued to glare at Sonny, though the man turned to the officer, an eyebrow raised in question. "He caused a fractured rib, a broken nose, a concussion, and severe bruising- pretty much everywhere."

The smallest smirk tugged at Dean's lips as Sonny looked back to him, the disbelief across his face not incredibly clear but definitely there. 

Dean looked back to his hands, as the officer began talking about the judge, and Dean being too young to leave alone in the cell. He could feel Sonny's eyes on him the whole time, as he dug his thumb nail into the side of his finger picking at the dried blood.

He couldn't care to listen, and even if he did the headache that pounded behind his eyes made it almost impossible. Nothing the officer said mattered. Yes John had left him, but it wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last. Dean would be there for a month at longest, before his dad returned and dragged him off to the next town. 

"So will you take him?"

Dean looked up, meeting Sonny's eyes, there was something to them, pity, concern, worry, either way Dean didn't like it. "Yah, I will."


	2. Chapter one

“Trust is like a pond of murky water: Too dark to see, mysteriously undercover. I can't jump off the high dive even though I really want to, my toes are hanging off the ledge.”   
-Half•Alive, TrusT

-

‘Back in the back of a Cadillac. Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack. Yes, I'm in a bang, with a gang’ 

The music rang through Dean’s headphones, loud and blaring, cutting out the world, and everything that he had yet to accept. With his eyes closed, and feet propped up he could almost imagine he was in some motel, waiting for his dad to return from a run, or jumping between his dad's new side jobs.

Sam would shake him awake in any minute. He’d complain that Dean was singing too loud, and probably be right, not that Dean would ever admit it, or ask about what Dean would be making for dinner. Dean would then play the music for both of them to hear, Sam would roll his eyes, but smile anyways, soon joining in on Dean’s singing and dancing.

In crappy motels.

With questionable smells, and stains that Dean prefered to ignore.

They’d eat the same food for days, or in Dean’s case sometimes not at all.

Then John would pick them up, and they’d start all over.

Dean wished he was there, with his brother, making sure Sam was okay. 

‘So look at me now, I'm just makin' my play. Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way,’ Brian Johnson continued to sing, Dean humming along softy. 

He could feel someone tap his shoulder, though he kept his eyes firmly shut, determined to ignore who ever attempted to get his attention. Another tap came. Followed by another. Then a soft shake of his shoulder.

As another shake came, Dean’s eyes snapped him, harshly glaring up at the man above him, Sonny. The man was stood next to Dean’s bed where Dean layed, a plate of food in hand, and eyebrows raised slightly.

Dean slowly took out the earbuds. He sat up properly, though never let his glare falter, determined to make the man as miserable as himself. Fuck the cops. Fuck Sonny. Fuck the boys home. He’d been there for a week and was already done with it.

“Dean,” The man began slowly. His voice was rough though held a soft tone to it, one that Dean would have rolled eyes to if he wasn’t busy glaring. “You’ve got to join us for dinner at some point.”

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

“I think that’s a lie.”

Dean crossed his arms across his chest, watching as Sonny placed the plate of food on Dean’s beside table, a burger and french fries. The smell was intoxicating even from a distance, causing his stomach to turn, and mouth to water. Sonny had been wrong, Dean wasn’t hungry, he was starving.

He had eaten since he arrived, tons, though no matter how much he ate it never seemed to be enough. 

“Look boy-” 

“I told you, stop fuckin calling me that.”

A visible sigh lowered Sonny’s chest, as he took a seat next to Dean, leaving at least a foot of space between them. “I know you’re frustrated with me, but i’m not the reason your here. I’m just tryin’ my hardest to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

Another visible sigh. “Being mouthy, skipping class, it’s just makin’ it harder for the both us.” 

“I haven’t skipped class,” Dean replied. Of course that wasn’t fully truly, since he’d shown up that Monday, he had always gone to class. Whether he stayed or not was a completely different story. 

“You know they call me when you don’t return t’class.”

Fuck.

“It doesn’t matter my dads going t’pick me up in a few days anyways.”

“Kid,” Dean locked his jaw, his fists clenching at his sides. “Your dad-”

“Fuck you.” Despite his boiling blood, the words came out empty, no energy to them, steady and emotionless. 

“Dean-” 

“Fuck you.”

“I’m try-”

“Fuck you,” Dean spat.

“Alright,” Sonny stood, Dean’s gaze following the man the whole time, “I’ll leave you alone.” He gave Dean one last look before he began walking across the room, not turning when he stopped at the door frame. “Just try to stay in class tomorrow, and eat before your dinner gets cold.”

When the bedroom door had been closed, and Dean was sure he was once again alone, he grabbed the burger from the plate, taking as large of a bite as he could. He barely finished his first before he took another, then another. 

After the burger had been finished Dean pulled out his phone, using one hand to find his dad’s number while he used the other to continue shoving fries into his mouth. Only stopping when his thumb hesitated over John's number. 

A breath filled his lungs, and then left. His gaze going from the phone and to the bed across from his own. Another moment passed, before he pressed call and raised the ringing phone to his ear.

One ring.

Then another.

Then another.

Then the drop of his heart, as his dad didn’t answer, and instead the ringing was replaced by his father’s voicemail, ‘John Winchester, you know what to do.’

“Sir,” Dean whispered. He took a hesitant breath, the air barely filling his lungs. 

“I- um,” He took another deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, he just wanted to hear his brother’s voice, or John’s. He’d never admit it but he missed his dad. The consistency of having him there, no matter how bad things got, no matter what situation Dean got himself in.

Dean loved him, and sat alone in the large bedroom, wanted him more than ever. 

“Could I talk to Sammy?” He continued, the shaking in his voice uncontrollable. 

“Please.”

“Call me back when you get the chance.”

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry it's short and not much happens, but I promise Cas will be in the next chapter!  
> Have a great day  
> Lots of love, paige


	3. Chapter two

“I'm a dumb teen boy. I eat sticks and rocks and mud. I don't care about the government, and I really need a hug”  
-Cavetown, Boys Will Be Bugs

-

“What do you have next?”

“Bio,” Dean grumbled, eyes staying on his locker, instead of Lee who was lent against the locker next to him. He was another one of the six boys staying with Sonny, and the only one Dean had taken any interest in, willing to talk and be near him. He would never admit it though Dean was even starting to enjoy the other’s company. “We’re making a fuckin’ poster with a partner, about bacteria, or some shit like that.”

“Who are you stuck working with?”

“Meg.”

“Masters?”

Dean hesitated for a second before giving a nod of his head. He wasn't sure what her last name was, though he had yet to run into any other megs in the school, or at least in grade eleven. “She isn’t bad,” Lee said. “She’s actually pretty awesome.”

“She’s fine, but she’s friends with some douche bag, Casel, or somethin’.”

Dean grabbed his bio textbook before slamming the locker door shut.

“Castiel,” Lee corrected, Dean only humming in response. He turned to face the other resting his shoulder against his own locker.

Above the bell ring, indicating it was time to get to their last class of the day, though Dean didn’t make any attempt to move, Lee staying in place as well, much to Dean’s relief. Getting to biology on time was the least of his concerns, especially on a monday. “Casiel, Castiel, either way he’s a prick.”

“He’s rich as hell.”

“Even fuckin better.”

Dean shoved his hands into his pocket, eyes darting across the other’s features that sat in a teasing way. A smirk across his face, eyebrows raised, as if something was incredibly funny that Dean couldn’t quite figure out. “He’s also gay,” Lee hummened, smile only growing as Dean’s face dropped.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his stomach that twisted. When it didn’t help he instead looked over his shoulder to the rest of the hallway that was now empty, other than a few students near the water fountain. “What class do you have?”

“History.”

“I’ll walk you.”

By the time Dean had walked with Lee to his class, then back across the school to the library where they were working on their projects, it had been ten minutes since the bell had rung, the library now silent, with most students busy working on their projects. He found Meg at a round table in the far corner, hidden from the rest of the class, Castiel with her, though Cas’s own partner, April, nowhere to be seen.

“Nice to see you join us.” Meg greeted as Dean took a seat next to her, dropping his backpack to the ground. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

“How could I miss my favourite class,” Dean replied, voice raised in sarcasm.

He looked away from Meg and to Castiel who was sat across from them, head down, writing slowly across his own poster board. He was about the same size as Dean, maybe an inch shorter, though that’s where the similarities ended. His hair was dark and tousled, his skin a warm tan, unlike Dean’s own pale tone. 

Up close even Dean could tell the clothing he wore was expensive. A dark blue sweater made from thick wool, with a just visible white shirt underneath. To pull it together he wore a pair of black dress pants, and dress shoes the same colour.

Nothing like Dean’s own clothing. An old Led Zeppelin shirt, with a flannel, jacket, and a pair of jeans. They were all his fathers, hanging around his body at least two sizes too big, not that Dean cared. John had given him money occasionally to buy clothing, though Dean prefered to but Sam nice clothing, and take things John was throwing out for himself. 

Dean continued to stare at Castiel until the other looked up, his gaze staring back intensely. “Dean?” Cas began in a low tone. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy.”

Cas stared back for another moment before looking back down to his project, Dean's gaze staying on him for a moment. 

A breath parted his lips and Dean finally looked down. “So Clarence,” Meg hummened, from Dean’s left. He grabbed his textbook from the bag and placed it on the table. “What do you think of Ketch?” 

Dean glanced to Cas, who hadn’t looked up. “Why?” 

“He invited me over, and I can’t decide if he’s being nice or a jackass.”

“He’s alright I suppose, he was better looking before he had his haircut.” 

“That’s what I told Charlie, she thinks it’s nice though.” 

Dean didn’t look up as they continued to talk, instead aimlessly flipping through the textbook, or his phone, until both had become boring. 

“Why do we even have to learn about fuckin’ bacteria.” Dean complained, cutting Meg off. He closed the textbook, making as much noise as possible. He hated the class. He hated the fact that he missed the first two weeks. He hated the fact that it was interesting. Most of all he hated the fact that he’d be dragged away before he could actually learn anything. Instead being thrown into the next school, where they’d be teaching something completely different.

It was just easier to not pay attention.

“We’re learning about protists,” Castiel replied, in a low monotone voice. Dean looked up raising an eyebrow at the other who still looked down. “They aren't bacteria.”

“Either way they’re fuckin’ stupid.” 

He shoved the text book back into his bag, before zipping it up, and pulling it over his shoulder. “How long do we have to finish this?” Dean asked, looking to Meg. 

“Till friday.” 

“Aesome.” Dean stood, pushing the chair back under the table. “I think we go, get some snacks from the gas station, and we can finish the rest of it tomorrow.”

Meg looked up, her lips pressed in a tight, dark hair falling around her shoulders in waves, giving her pale skin an even lighter tone. Her eyes darted to Cas, then back to Dean, dark under her heavy eyeshadow. “I think we deserve a break,” she finally agreed.

Dean grinned as she stood, packing her own bag “Come on Clarence,” Meg insisted, Cas only looking up with a blank expression. “Have some fun.”

“I don’t find skipping class fun.” 

“Oh come on.” 

Dean took a step backwards, towards the library exit. Could they not move a little faster. 

“Meg.”

“Clarence.”

“I'm not going.” 

God Dean was going to leave them both. 

“Clarence,” Meg whined, drawing the word out. 

“Meg.” 

“Come or I’ll tell Gabriel about lunch.” 

At first Cas didn’t reply, his gaze going from Meg to Dean, then back to Meg. Lips pressed in a tight line as they had a staring match.

“Fine, I’ll come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Kinda important!   
> First off sorry this took so long! It’s been a rough week   
> Second off!! Sorry this boring I promise things pick up in the next few chapters  
> Lastly!!! I start school this week, so updates are going to be different! Instead of Sunday I’ll be updating every Friday and Tuesday (let’s just pretend it’s Friday today)!  
> And yah, have an amazing weekend!


	4. Chapter three

“Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you. There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do”  
-Avicii, Hey Brother 

-

Dean glanced to the gas station cashier, making sure the man wasn’t looking before he turned back to the shelf of candy and slowly grabbed a chocolate bar. A Kit-Kat one of Sam’s favourites. For a moment he kept it at his side, casually holding it as he continued to inspect the other chocolate bars before he stuffed it into his pocket. 

A second chocolate bar quickly followed. Then a pack of gum. Then a pack of skittles. 

He was rapidly running out of room, and the cashier had become increasingly interested in him, not that he was shocked. 

“Are you guys ready to go?” Dean asked when he’d once again met the cashier's gaze. He turned to his classmates? Acquaintances? He wasn't sure, though only Cas had looked back, Meg instead digging through her backpack.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom first,” Meg replied, finally looking up. “Then we can go.”

“Can’t you hold it?”

“I can either go now, or you can clean the blood out of my pants.” Meg pressed her lips in a tight line, raising her eyebrow at Dean. She may have been a few inches shorter, though she was definitely someone he’d be wary around, holding a confidence that unlike Dean’s was definitely not fake.

How her and Castiel were friends, Dean had no idea.

“Your choice Winchester.”

Dean only clenched his teeth, gesturing in the direction of the gas stations washroom. “Don’t let me stop you.”

When Meg walked off, Dean let out a low breath, his gaze darting to the cashier. He wanted out of the store, before the man would have any time to realize how much Dean stuffed in his pockets. “Let’s go pay.” Dean said, looking to Cas, who only looked back with a questionable expression. Seriously, how were he and Meg friends. “We can wait for her outside.”

Cas gave a small nod, before Dean turned away, walking back down the aisle they stood in. He could feel the other walking next to him, close, far to close for Dean’s liking. The other’s arm brushing across Dean’s in a way that twisted his stomach, threatening to bring up the cafeteria's food.

For a moment he considered pushing the other away, though that seemed just mean. Why did Cas have to stand so close.

Dean took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the discomfort in his chest, though instead it only got worse as they stopped at the cashier’s desk waiting for a different customer to finish paying. 

Another deep breath.

Why did Cas have to stand so close.

Another deep breath.

Why did Cas have to stand so close, was it because- no, Dean wouldn’t even consider it an option. 

His gaze darted to the other, across Cas’s features that sat in an emotionless expression, his skin a faded colour except for under his eyes that were a darker colour from what Dean assumed was exhaustion. In his hand was a pack of gum, his other in his pocket pulling out his wallet.

“Is that all you’re getting?” Dean asked, meeting the other’s gaze.

“Yes? Is that a problem?”

Dean shrugged, “It’s just kinda lame.”

“Well I don’t like chocolate.”

“That’s even lamer.”

Dean wasn’t sure how right Lee was about the whole rich thing, but Dean knew if he had money, he’d eat everything, and anything. Minus spaghetti. He didn't think he'd ever stop eating, pops at restaurants, foods that didn’t come from bags, more than just packs of gums.

Cas didn’t reply, and instead they both took a step forward as the customer in front of them left, the cashier greeting them with a forced smile. His gaze met Dean’s for a second though Dean quickly looked away, to the cigarettes that lined the back wall. “How can I help you today?”

“I’ll get a pack of Camels.”

“Can I have an ID?”

Dean glanced back to the man, forcing his breath to stay calm. “Look,” He began, speaking as lade back as he could, though Cas’s stare that burned against the side of his head, did nothing to help. “I left it in my car, but I turned eighteen last month, right Cas?”

He met Cas’s gaze, the other looking back with his lips in a tight line. “Dean,” He finally began, “I don’t know when your birthday is, we met a week ago.”

Fuck.

Was it really that hard to lie.

“It was my birthday last month, and I am eighteen.” Dean looked back to the cashier, though even Dean knew he hadn’t been that convincing. Instead of continuing to argue he puckered his bottom lip slightly, looking up with as pleading of eyes as he could muster. “Okay i’m not eighteen, but they’re for my dad, and he won’t be happy if I don’t get’em.”

The cashier didn’t flinch, and if anything he only looked more angry. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

“Sir, please.” Dean pleaded, raising his voice slightly, “He’ll hit me.”

“Kid-” 

Before the man could continue he was interrupted by the ringing of Dean’s phone, Ramble On blaring through the quite shop. “One sec,” Dean grumbled. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket, the screen immediately lighting with his dad's name. Double fuck. “I’ve- I’ve gotta take this.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, instead practically stumbling out of the store, heart hammering in his chest, or maybe not beating at all. Dean wasn’t sure all he could hear was ringing through his ears as he slid accept to the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Sir?””

There was a pause, Dean greeted by nothing by a shallow breath, followed by his brother's small voice. “Dean.” 

“Sammy?” Dean held the phone closer to his ear, as if that would bring his brother closer. It was stupid though Dean couldn’t help it, the pain in his heart, the pain in Sam’s voice. It was too much. “Is everything- are you okay?” 

“Yah.” Another quiet response, not the usual energetic tone that Sam held. 

“Is dad with you?” 

“No.”

Dean took a hesitant breath, glancing over his shoulder. Through the window he could see Meg walking back to Cas, arms full food. They’d be at least another five minutes, though that did nothing to calm Dean’s nerves.

“Where are you?”

“Portland.”

“Oregon?” 

“Yah.” 

Another deep breath.

Then another.

His heart continuing to hammer in his chest. 

“Okay, I’m coming.” 

He had a small roll of money buried in his duffle bag, twenty dollars at minimum, forty at most. It would be enough to buy him bus tickets for at least half way. Between begging and stealing he’d be able to make it the rest of the way, and hopefully not starve.

He’d get to his brother and everything would be okay.

Sam would be okay.

Was Sam okay.

It had only been a week and half but even still he sounded so small.

Had he been eating 

“Do you have food?” Dean asked, unable to hold the slight fear in his voice. There were times where he’d gone far too long without eating, he didn’t want the same for his brother.

“No”

Had Sam been sleeping 

“‘Money?”

“Yah.”

“Good,” that was at least something. “When we stop talkin’ go to the closest grocery store and buy some pasta, cereal, and bread. You have to go right away though, I don’t want you to be waking around when it’s dark. Do you understand?” A pause came through the line for a moment, and then another, the silence seeming to draw on, only twisting Dean’s stomach. “Sam do you understand me?”

“yes.”

Was John being nice to Sam 

“Good.” Dean took a deep breath before continuing, “Did dad say how long he would be gone for?”

Or were things getting bad.

Sometimes things got bad, when John was tired after work, and Sam was energetic, wanting him to pay attentiol

Dean made Sam go to his room when things got bad. 

“He said he’d be back tomorrow night.”

Shit.

The bus would take at least two days, if Dean was lucky. 

“and he left this morning?”

“Yah.”

“For a run?” Dean whispered. His breath hitched as he waited for Sam to reply, the silence filled by nothing but the beating of his heart. Ringing through his head, burning every inch of his skin.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, the pain in his voice unavoidable, weighing on Dean’s heart. “I’m scared, I don’t want to be alone.”

Dean gasped for a breath as his lungs had begun to burn, for a second closing his eyes. He didn’t think he could keep his voice steady any longer, though he didn’t see any other option. He couldn’t worry his brother anymore. 

Panic, young, innocent, Sam who slept with Dean when there were thunderstorms even at twelve. Who stopped to pet every dog, and begged Dean to watch cartoons with him. Who could make Dean smile within seconds. 

Young, innocent Sam, who deserved so much better.

If didn’t hadn’t gotten into the fight. If he could have controlled himself. He’d fucked up, and now Sam was paying. 

He’d really fucked up. 

“I know, but I’ll be there before dad gets back.” Dean finally replied, when he was sure his voice would be steady. Another breath filled his lungs. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I said I was going to be updating every Tuesday and Friday??  
> Plans changed.  
> The moon, the ocean, and wether or not I've eaten chocolate decides when update at this point!  
> So yah do with that as you will, I think this way just keeps all of us on our toes, and things interesting.  
> On a different note, I don't know if I like how this stories going. Kinda wish I didn't go for a bit of slight enemies, with Dean and Cas, and instead went for instant friends, but it's to late!  
> Anyways you all are amazing people, and I hope you have a great day!


	5. Chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo ummmmm I guess I'm posting in this story again?? I kinda had abandon it but apparently not!!  
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed and are having a lovely day!

He didn’t wait for Castiel or Meg to pay, he left the moment he’d hung up on Sam, pace at first slow as he made his way through the small town. Down various turns and across streets, horns blaring and brakes screeching as his slow pace became a frantic sprint, heart hammering in his chest, mouth open gasping for air, as his legs burned. Sam was alone, that thought spiralled through his mind with each beat of his foot against the cement. He needed money. He needed to see Sam. He needed a plane ticket. He needed money. 

He needed to make sure Sam was okay and that’s why when he’d reached the richer part of the town and his running had slowed to a simple walk, he didn’t feel bad. It was the kind of neighbourhood Sam would drag him to during holidays, to look at the christmas lights that twinkled against the night sky, or the glowing pumpkins that lined doorways during October. The kind of neighborhood that Dean rolled his eyes at while Sam admired the architecture of one house or the dog that played outside of another. Sam would have loved this neighbourhood. Each house large and white with their front yards all perfect and green, even in chilling September weather.

Sam would have loved it, and for a moment Dena let himself think about it, a smile tugging his own lips as he looked across the street before he began walking again. This time slower, trying to seem casual as his gaze wandered from house to house, studying the cars that filled the parking lots, a bright red Mercedes parked outside the first, a Volskawagan beetle outside the second, multiple cars outside the forth, and absolutely nothing outside the second an old Bug with the roof rolled down, the third with multiple cars, and the fourth completely empty, blinds closed, and lights off. 

That was all Dean needed to step off the sidewalk, and onto the house's front lawn, breath suddenly caught in his throat as he snuck along the side of the house hidden by the tall fence that separated him from the neighbor. Heart hammering in his chest. Racing with each crunch fo his boots, until he stopped next to a kitchen window and it was the only thing he could hear. 

The hammering of his heart.

A slow breath escaping his lips.

The hammering of his heart. 

Gaze locked on the window and the kitchen behind it. 

He raised his elbow, allowing another breath to part his lips, before with as much force as he could muster Dean brought his elbow onto the window, the glass immediately shattering around him. Within seconds Dean was hoisting himself through the frame, the glass crunching under his feet as he dropped into the kitchen, a kitchen that Dean couldn’t help but glance across in amazement, lips parted as he stared at the marble counters, the far wall covered in floor length windows that allowed the afternoon sunlight to fall in. In the center of the room a kitchen island was placed, the marble countertop decorated with a large bowl of fruit, the kind Dean the kind Dean would see on tv, bananas a vibrant shade of yellow, while each apple shined perfectly, almost too perfect to be true. 

Is that how everything was for rich people? Too perfect to be true. 

The sudden blaring of an alarm jolted Dean from his aw, snapping his head from the kitchen and to the broken window. His once hammering heart now stuck in his throat.

Shit.

“Shit.” 

Shit.

His legs wouldn’t move. His mind racing frantically as the blaring noise still rang through his head. He should leave. He couldn’t. He should pull himself back through the window. He couldn’t. He should run as far as his shaken legs would carry him. He couldn’t. 

Without a second doubt Dean turned away, and ran for the kitchen exit, the door leading him into the dining room, which unlike the kitchen he didn't take time to admire. He ran through it, footsteps pounding against the wood floor, hands out as he pushed past furniture and walls, frantically making his way through the house. Down the hallway and up a staircase, pulling open any door he passed as he looked for the master bedroom. 

It was the fourth door he pulled open that led to the master bedroom, the room the same as any other, dark wood furniture, and black sheets that covered the bed, a small crystal chandelier hanging in the center. Pristine. Expensive. Clean. Something that quickly changed as Dean began searching through the room, pulling open bedside tables, and dresser drawers. PUlling out the objects and letting them carelessly fall to the ground as he searched for money or anything that would be worth pawning off. 

Books were thrown to the ground and a gold brooch was shoved into his jacket pocket, followed by a few rings and a twenty dollar bill he found abandoned under the bed. Two watched were the last things shoved into his jean pockets before he left the room. Footsteps heavy and heart hammering as he frantically ran back through the house, and to the front door.

The security alarm still blared through the main floor, spinning through his head as he reached the front door. He needed to get out, he needed to put as much distance between him and the house as possible, find an airport, get to his brother. Dean’s hand reached out, grabbing the door knob and immediately pushing the door open, though before he could even take a step out he was met with the shocked expression of a police officer. 

“Son of a-”

~~~

The handcuffs were undone and immediately Dean rubbed his hand around his wrist, able to feel a dull throb as his fingers brushed across his skin. He looked up the officer in front of him, first to the man’s face and then the man’s outreached hand which held Dean’s phone and the candies he’d stolen from the gas station. 

“You’re free to go,” the officer said, though Dean remained sitting, instead looking back to the officer's face. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to sit there until hunger took over and he could die, he didn’t want to see his phone and the messages Sam may have left, he didn’t want to see the town he was alone in. Most of all he didn’t want to see Sonny and the anger that would lace his features, hear the screaming that he knew would come, the thought twisted Dean’s stomach, brought a lump to his throat that made breathing almost impossible. 

“You’re allowed to leave,” the officer repeated, though once again Dean didn’t move, he didn’t think his legs could even if he wanted to. “Kid, Sonny’s waiting for you, come on.” 

When Dean didn’t make any attempt to move the officer shoved the things into his hands, before turning and walking, leaving Dean no choice but to stand. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life sat in some police station, no matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he dreaded seeing Sonny and whatever anger was to come.

He couldn’t stay forever.

He wanted to stay forever. 

Slowly Dean shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, heart heavy as the candies he’d stolen soon followed, he then pushed himself from the bench, fixing his jeans before taking his first step towards the exit. Followed by a second, then a third. His legs almost shaking as he walked across the police station, and out the front door.

The cold air immediately burned against his cheeks, as Dean’s gaze darted to the sky above, the once light sky now a fading pink as the sun hung low in the sky. He let his gaze linger there for another moment before looking to the street in front of him and the truck that had pulled over to the side where Sonny stood. The man was lent against the side of his vehicle, a cigarette brought to his lips as a trail of smoke surrounded him. The whole scene was incredibly relaxed, too relaxed, as if he was picking Dean up from a sports game rather than a police station, something that only weighed on Dean’s shoulders. 

He’d seen the scenario far too many times to not know how it would end. 

“I talked with Crowley,” Sonny hummed as he blew out a cloud of smoke. Dean didn’t move, instead staying frozen a few feet away, a safe few feet away. “He agreed not to press charges if you’ll spend a few weeks helping him out after school.”

Sonny took another drag from the cigarette, his eyes on Dean as Dean stared back, watching each of the man’s movements. The way he shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, the way he rolled the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke parting his lips, the blinking of his eyes, another shift of his weight, a small movement from his other hand that hung at his side. It was all done relaxed, laid back, almost careless, though despite that Dean couldn't bring himself to relax. 

“Do you wanna tell me why ya broke into his house?” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as Sonny pushed himself from his truck, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it before he walked across the sidewalk to where Dean still stood. His own stance stiffening as Sonny stopped in front of him, chin tilting up to meet the man’s eyes that stayed locked on his own. 

“It was nothin’”

Sonny raised an eyebrow, though Dean’s gaze dropped to the man’s hands, one resting easy at his side while the one that had once held the cigarette was now stuffed in his jacket pocket. “So you broke into the house for fun?” Dean looked back up, his breathing coming out slow as his hands clenched into fists. Despite the way Sonny spoke calm, careful, almost caring, it did nothing to ease Dean, if anything it only built the frustration, the want for the other man to simply yell, to get it what Dean knew was coming, over with. “If you needed something you could have talked to me.

“Well maybe I don’t fuckin’ like you,” Dean spat.

“Dean-”

Dean shook his head, teeth clenching together as Sonny gave him a look that over the week Dean had become familiar with. Pity. Fake concern. Something that only made Dean’s blood boil. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m tryin’ ta help you.” Sonny insisted, still in that fucking calm voice, with those fucking gentle eyes that Dean hated so fucking much. 

“I told you to fuck off.”

“I’m not-” 

“Stop with the bullshit act!” Dean screamed, his heart hammering in his chest, as his fists clenched so hard he could feel his nails dig into the palms of his hands. Despite the outburst, Sonny’s pitying look didn’t falter, the only indication that he’d even heard Dean being a slow breath that passed his lips. “Stop bein’ so fuckin calm,” Dean screamed, “you’re pissed off at me! Throw a punch, fuckin’ hit me you son of bitch. Fuckin’ hit me.”

Sonny’s lips parted, wide eyed gaze darting across Dean’s features. “I’m not-” Sonny mustered, “i’m not gonna hit you.”

Dean’s eyes stayed locked on the other man’s as he took a step forward, chin tilted up and back stiff though he still stood at least a head shorter than the other. “‘Cause you’re a bitch,” he spat. 

“Because you're a kid.” Dean grit his teeth, not replying. He didn’t have any way to reply, nothing else to say. Fighting wasn’t working, and he was far too late to make a joke or some snidey comment, too late or too tired, Dean wasn’t sure. Whatever adrenaline that had once coursed through his veins, no longer beating leaving him drained and exhausted.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to see Sam.

He wanted his dad. 

“Could we please talk ‘bout things?” Sonny insisted. Dean didn’t reply, his gaze dropping to the ground as he took a step past Sonny, followed by a second one, though before he could take a third, the man’s hand was around his upper arm stopping him in place. His heart leaping in his throat, the fear that had held him the police station once again grasping hold.

“Leave me alone,” Dean mustered, forcing his voice to stay steady, to not show the fear. 

He felt Sonny’s grip loosen and Dean took that moment to shrug the man’s hand away, taking his final step around the other. He could hear Sonny begin to say something though he didn’t stop, footsteps heavy as he began walking down the street and in the direction of what he assumed was Sonny’s place. He could still feel the lingering fear, blurred with his thoughts from the past hours. 

Sam’s phone call, his second arrest in the past week, sitting alone in the police station. Sam was still alone; probably buried under a pile of blankets, every light in the motel on as the tv blared. He’d never liked being alone, it had only been in the past years that Sam had even begun sleeping alone rather than joining Dean half way through the night. Dean had promised him he wouldn't be alone, that he would be there soon. 

He'd promised. 

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, a shaken breath of the cool evening air filling his lungs, then exiting, followed by a second. He could hear the low hum of an engine approaching, the low noise filling the silent streets, though Dean remained still, his eyes only fluttering open when Sonny spoke. 

“You just gonna walk back?” Sonny called. Dean’s gaze darted to the truck that was now stopped in the middle of the street, the passenger’s window rolled down so Dean could just see Sonny’s face, casted by shadows. “It’s goin’ to take you at least an hour.”

“I’ve walked further,” Dean replied through clenched teeth. He began walking again, head forward on the street in front of him, on the shops that lined the side, on anything but the truck that rolled slowly next to him. 

“Come on,” Sonny insisted, “it’s late and you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“I'm droppin’’ out.”

“You’ve been going for a week.”

Dean’s fists clenched, teeth gritting as he continued to walk forward, footsteps heavy, beating through the silent night. He hoped Sonny could hear them, he hoped that other knew how pissed he was. How much he fuckin’ hated the town, and the fuckin’ school, and every fucking thing that had happened since he’d goten into that fight.

He stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street. His foot was immediately soaked, water splashing up from the puddle he’d step in and soaking his jeans. “Son of a bitch,” Dean screamed. 

His fists clenched at his sides, teeth gritting together as his eyes squeezed shut. A forced breath filled his lungs, then exited and slowly his eyes fluttered open, meeting Sonny’s truck that had once again stopped in the middle of the road though this time Sonny didn’t say anything. He made no attempt to call Dean over, and made no comment when Dean stomped over, pulling open the passenger door and slamming it shut when he got in.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah a new fic!!   
> As the description says, this is a teen Destiel AU, that'll hopefully be a bit happier then my other fic dear addiction.  
> As I say that this story will touch on subjects such as mental illness and internalized homophobia!  
> Umm what else do I have to say....  
> Dear addiction is currently my main focus so this story will be updated only on Sundays and chapters will probably be between 800-1500 words!   
> And yah! I think that's it!  
> I hope you're enjoying it so far!   
> Lots of love, paige


End file.
